“So sexy,” I purred, rolling over to snuggle into him when he flopped back down on the mattress. “Hold up.” Springing up in the bed, I gaped down at the five lettered word inked on his chest. “What the hell is that?”
“What?”
“That.” I poked the piece of skin the covering his heart.
Aoife was written in italic scribe across the left side of his chest.
“What?” he drawled lazily.
“Did you look in the mirror when you were recording your personal best time for the piss-Olympics?”
“Huh?”
“Look,” I whisper-hissed, and then bit down on my fist in nervous anticipation.
Bleary-eyed, Joey pulled himself up on his elbows, glanced down at his chest, and released a frustrated groan before flopping back down on the pillows.
"Well, I can tell you one thing for sure that I do remember about the past two days, Molloy, and it’s that this was your genius idea.”
“What?” I shook my head, at a total drunken, hazed loss. “No, it wasn’t.”
“That creepy tent with those hippies,” he grumbled. “You dragged me in there last night, demanding to be tramp stamped.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Well, it looks like you’re the one with the tramp stamp, bitch,” I cackled, slapping my palm down on his tender chest. "Hard luck."
"That’s what you think," he grunted, shrugging me off, and then draping an arm over his face. "Check your ass."
"Huh?"
"Your ass," he mumbled, voice raspy and hoarse. "I'm on it."
"No, you're not."
"Yeah, I am," he replied, yawning. "If you're on my heart, then I'm on your ass."
"Oh, cop on," I growled, narrowing my eyes. “That’s not even funny.”
"You're mine now, Molloy," he mimicked my voice. "Hard luck."
Falling off the bed, I staggered over to the mirror on the back of the bedroom door and unceremoniously yanked my knickers down my legs.
"Oh my god," I screamed, eyes glued to the red inked heart on the right cheek of my ass with the name Joey in black ink inside it. "Your name is on my ass!"
"Like I said," he shot back with a yawn. "Looks like you’re my bitch.”
"I'm on my period, you idiot!"
"How is you being on your period my fault?" His voice echoed out from under the pillow he'd draped over his face. "I'm not mother nature, Molloy."
"It's your fault because you should have stopped me," I strangled out, gaping in absolute horror at the reflection of my red and weltered ass cheek. "Jesus Christ, I don’t know what's worse," I wailed, reaching around to rip the cling-film off. "The fact that I got a tattoo of my boyfriend's name on my ass like some slut, or the fact that I did it with a tampon string dangling between my legs!"
"Do you have any painkillers?" was his loving and supportive response. "My head's in pieces."
"Screw your headache!" I wailed, arms flailing. "How could you let this happen to me?" I shook my head and fought back a whimper. "Joe, my dad is going to kill me."
"Why?" he drawled, not one bit fazed by any of this, as he sprawled out and star fished the mattress. "Does Tony have a habit of checking the cheeks of your ass, Molloy?"
ROAD TRIP HOME
JULY 11TH 2004
JOEY
“You’re going the wrong way.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Do you want to drive?”
“No.”
“Then shut up!”
She gasped in a loud breath. “I’m offended!”
I shrugged.
“Say sorry.”
“No.”
She folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “Do it.”
I laughed. “No.”
“I want an apology.”
“And I want a million euro,” I laughed. “Tell you what, you’ll get your apology when I get my money.”
She glared at the side of my face for a few moments longer before her expression softened. “Hey, Joe, do you think I’m dramatic?”
“Only when you’re awake.”
Her glare made a reappearance. “Now, I want two apologies.”
Her phone started to ring then, and she quickly answered the call. “Hello, father, this is your favorite child speaking.”
Rolling my eyes, I concentrated on the road ahead of us, while she rambled on to her dad.
“Yeah, we had a great time,” she said, ripping off a lollypop wrapper and popping it into her mouth. “Yeah, Casey really enjoyed the festival, too.” She paused to wink at me before continuing with her conversation, “Yeah, I’m totally safe, Dad. I’m really getting the hang of driving.”
Yeah fucking right.
“Okay, Dad, I’ll see you tonight. Yeah, yeah. Okay, love you. Bye.”
Hanging up, she tossed the phone on her lap, and twisted in her seat to face me. “So, I had a really good time this weekend, boyfriend.”
“I’m not your boyfriend, Molloy.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” she shot back with a grin. “You’re my bitch.”
MEET MY DAD – I MEAN, YOUR BOSS
AUGUST 22ND 2004
AOIFE
On Sunday morning Joey had a face like thunder when he stepped out his front door and made a beeline for where I was sitting on his garden wall.
“I told you that I’d meet you on your street,” he snapped, quickly snatching me up, and throwing me over his shoulder. “I don’t want you anywhere near this house, Molloy.”
His bad mood was something I expected, so I didn’t let it faze me.
Instead, I laughed at how ridiculous we looked, as he continued to stalk down the footpath, with me over his shoulder, and my ass in the air.
“I’m wearing a skirt,” I laughed, which earned me a string of curse-words, as he quickly set me on my feet, and pulled the hem of my skirt down. “It’s nice, huh?” Stepping closer, I grabbed his hand, and made him feel the fabric. “It’s totally fake leather, but I feel like a pure ride in it.”
“You look like one, too,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw, as his eyes drank me in. “Jesus, did you go to mass wearing that skirt?”
“I sure did.” Batting my eyes I grinned up at him. “But don’t worry, I plan on going to confession next week to atone for my sins.”
“Atone.” Smirking, he slung an arm over my shoulders, as we walked. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“And you do?” Reaching around, I slipped my hand into his back pocket, my favorite place to touch him. “I didn’t see you lining up for holy communion.”
“Fair point.”
“So.” Thinking carefully about how I was going to phrase my next question, I said, “we’ve had fun this summer, haven’t we, Joe?”
“Yeah,” he replied slowly. “We have.”
“I mean, we have, though, right?” Exhaling heavily, I added, “We’ve spent a lot of time together, had a lot of fun, done a lot of stuff.”